Till Senses Reel And Pulses Swim
by Sinistra Black
Summary: PWP - two-shot. The emerald green of the soft material over her eyes is a sight he can sometimes summon in his dreams. She is submission itself. Magnificent. His.
1. Her Little Black Dress

Enslave me to your wanton charms,  
Crush me in your velvet arms  
And make me, make me love you.

Make me fire your blood with new desire,  
And make me kiss you — lip and limb,  
Till senses reel and pulses swim...

— **Alfred Bryan,** _Enthralled_.

.

.**Her Little Black Dress.**

.

_Meet me at midnight. Don't forget to wear it._

—**D.M**

She stares at the piece of parchment and a surge of desire shoots through her bloodstream, making her stomach clench in anticipation and her thighs rub together almost on their own accord. She licks her lower lip as her finger traces his initials absentmindedly, her fingernail scratching the curve of the 'D', and she is already craving pale, smooth skin to claw at—to mark.

The note goes up in flashes under the tip of her wand, and she throws the remaining ashes in the bin near her desk, on the way to the bathroom.

**OOO**

In his study, Draco sits in the leather armchair behind his desk, his silver tie hanging loosely around his neck, the sleeves of his crisp, immaculate shirt rolled over his forearms, swirling a half empty glass of Firewiskey and staring at nothing in particular, trademark smirk playing across his lips.

He can see her already, in his mind's eyes, see her perfect hourglass form stretching the black fabric, the top of her thighs peeking from under the hem, her legs endless—long and chiselled and oh so perfect. The fantasy is enough to make his cock twitch in the confines of his trousers. The friction is sweet in its torturous nature, and his guts tighten in longing—in lust.

Oh, but he can hardly wait, can hardly breathe, because of the heat coursing through his veins, setting his senses ablaze; his desire for the witch burning white, growing and growing and almost thought-robbing. Yes, the torturous waiting is almost unbearable.

But he doesn't have to wait for much longer as the flames crackling in the fireplace turn green and he doesn't need to imagine anything anymore. It's right there, right in front of his very hungry eyes that waste no time in devouring those perfect legs, those half-hidden thighs, those inviting hips, those mouth-watering breasts, that swan neck seated on that sculptural collarbone, those lustful lips, that delicate button nose, those tantalizing beautifully shaped almond eyes and finally, that glorious curly hair.

She is Aphrodite incarnate and he is helplessly in lust. But patience, he tells himself, patience Draco.

Because the tension, the apprehension, the wanting makes the final abandon all the sweeter.

Hermione smiles slowly, arrogantly and her hand grazes the top of her thigh to rest on her hip.

"Like what you see, Malfoy?"

Draco's smirk morphs into a wolfish smile. It's not like he can possibly deny it; she is ravishing.

"You have no idea, Granger."

She bites her lower lip and a groan forces itself out of his throat. It's hoarse and primal and it's only because he knows her well that Draco notices her eyes close for a second, her breath catches and a tremor goes through her body—a body he can't take his eyes off of.

And that dress. That black dress that embraces her delectable form, kissing every curve, every valley, the thin straps holding the soft material in place. That dress hides just enough skin to make his imagination run wild, unearthing memories of the breathtaking nakedness underneath. He licks his lips and she bites hers harder.

The sexual tension in the room is pressing down on them, making them breathe harder, and suddenly he is out of his chair and, in a few long strides, he stands in front of her. But he keeps a good distance between them still, and leaning against his desk, crosses his arms over his chest, watching her.

"Gods you're fucking beautiful," he whispers almost in spite of him. The comment just rolls out of his lips and her eyes flash with something dark, something beautiful and dangerous that makes his insides scream in agony. He wants her so badly, oh so badly and he is hard, so hard, oh so incredibly hard. He shifts slightly to relieve his aching cock and she catches his movement, her gaze zeroing in on that part of him that is standing to attention, begging for affection, pleading for her touch, beseeching her wetness, her warmth.

The moan that fills the silence comes from her this time and Draco almost purrs in satisfaction.

"So fucking desirable, so…_fuckable_," he continues, taking a step toward her. She leans forward as if by instinct and the lust is swirling, twisting, raging in the space between them.

He gets a whiff of her smell as he starts circling her. It's a heady mixture of her natural scent and the particular fragrance of her arousal—because she is aroused, she is burning, feverishly awaiting that moment—the moment where his hands are going to touch her scorching skin. He knows that, doesn't need to see her hooded eyes or the quick rise and fall of her chest.

"Draco…" she trails off breathlessly and he can hear the impatience beneath his name, the longing, the yearning—ah oh how it's intoxicating; the way his name sounds coming from her lips.

"Shh, love," he says from behind, "I am not done drinking you in."

With that, he leans forward and buries his nose in her hair, taking a deep breath. Her scent sends a shudder of pleasure down his spine and he groans while she shivers.

"Gorgeous," he breathes out, his nose trailing down, down, over the nape of her neck and that light touch makes her skin erupt in goose bumps. "You smell divine, my pet."

He grazes her skin with his teeth, mouth open and hot.

"Like heaven and hell," his longue flickers over that same spot. "So fucking addictive."

She squirms a little and he pulls away, causing her to moan in protestation.

"Gods, I hate you," she complains and he chuckles.

"I know, love."

Draco takes a step back, gathering the scattered remains of his control. His voice is different the next time he speaks, the playfulness replaced by authority.

"Go to the desk," he says, and she complies without hesitation. "Put your hands flat on the wood," he continues, and he has to ball his own into fists when the thin fabric rides up slightly over her thighs.

It's not enough.

"Bend over," he instructs, and she does. The fabric climbs up her bum and he almost loses it when he notices that she is not wearing any knickers.

"You naughty, naughty girl," he comments, and knows that she must be smirking.

_Minx._

"Easy access," she rubs her legs together ever so slightly, and he thinks that she might be trying to undo him right then and there.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks again.

"Eager, are we Granger?"

"Yes," she half moans, half whispers.

He is now behind her. Close, oh so close, his cock almost touching her behind through his pants and Draco bends over her, his lips hovering over her left ear, sending shivers down her neck, her arm, "Good."

But he is straightening again and she huffs in agony.

"Draco—"

He interrupts her protest by spanking her bare flesh. She yelps and jerks forward.

"Don't. Talk." He bites out.

"But—"

His hand comes down across her bum again, and again. She is panting, mouth open and legs pressed tightly together. Her arms are trembling. The sight of her is mesmerizing.

"I said," he repeats. "Don't talk."

He waits, but she doesn't talk back this time. Her eyes are closed; her chest pushed forward, her erect nipples straining against the black material.

"Good girl," he purrs, his hand caressing the curve of her arse, down, slowly, further still, down, down—there, he pauses at the bottom, right at her entrance, the heat emanating from the small crevice warms his palm and he groans and resists the urge to push his fingers inside.

His cock rebels and his control slips a little—his fingertips run along her cunt. She arches and pushed further into his touch, but his hand is already gone. Draco stares at his fingers coated with her arousal, and he can't help it, he can't and even if he could, he wouldn't bother—he licks the wetness off, and his eyes roll in his head as the taste of her spreads in his mouth—Salty and musky and delicious.

"Don't be impatient,"

"I'm beyond impatient,"

_Slap_. He spanks her four times, carefully avoiding that place she wants for him to touch. She is trembling now, all of her, and her hands are clenched into fists over the mahogany surface of his desk. Her bare toes turn into the plush maroon carpet. He leans over her again, his lips open against her ear. She moans and her fingernails dig deeper into her palms, her mouth parts.

"Well then, tell me what you want me to do to you, Hermione,"

**OOO**

She tries to swallow, but her throat is dry, her breathing laboured, her legs are barely holding her anymore. She is going insane because of his little game, utterly insane because the lust is making her dizzy now and she can't think, let alone speak. Yet she knows, she knows that if she doesn't manage to form a coherent sentence—she knows that he won't touch her.

And that's completely out of the question.

Because she wants him, badly, so much it's threatening to make her crumble into ashes under the intensity of her lust. How he always manages to hold back is beyond her and she hates him for putting her through the torture, every time. However, she can't deny that once his careful control snaps—

Hermione jerks forward again when his hand slaps her arse, hard. Her arousal is sliding down the inside of her thighs at this point, but he is not touching her there—where she needs it the most, where she craves it the most.

"Well?" his teeth graze her ear and her knees buckle from underneath her. But he catches her, straightening her and being right against him gives her the opportunity to grind against his erection making him groan deeply, tightening his hold on her. But the moment is brief and the distance between them is in place again. She is about to protest when he spanks her again, harder than before. It's punishing, and the pain is exquisite.

"No, no, no, my pet, you know that's not how this goes," he says, his voice dark and full of promises, of delicious wickedness.

Hermione groans in response.

"So tell me, tell me Hermione: what do you want me to do to you?"

"I want you to," she stops, panting, "I want you to touch me,"

His fingers trail along her left leg, up, up, up and then down, down, down.

"Where?" He breathes at her ear again.

His fingers again, on her other leg, drawing the same pattern—but they are sliding up again, higher, higher, higher—

"There," she chokes out. "Move higher."

"Here?"

She whimpers in frustration. He is toying with her.

Bastard.

"Higher,"

"Here?"

"No," she snaps in frustration. Her hand snakes behind her and grabs his wrists, moving his fingers exactly where she wants them to be—at her centre.

"Here," she ground out, pressing his fingertips at her entrance. He doesn't move and she doesn't let go.

"How do you want me to touch you there?" he whispers and his voice is low and she hears him swallow thickly.

She doesn't have to answer because, suddenly, two fingers are shoved inside her folds and she cries out, bangs her fist against the desk, pushing back against the palm of his hand as it cups her arse.

"Fuck,"

He hums in appreciation. She knows that he loves it when she swears and so, she does it again:

"Oh fuck, Draco,"

His tongue traces the shell of her ear, "We'll get there."

But his fingers aren't pumping inside her, there are still, horribly still, painfully still and she knows what he wants from her. She knows even before he sucks at the sensitive spot under her ear, tasting it before saying:

"But for now, you'll fuck yourself on my fingers, Granger"

**OOO**

And she does. She moves forward and his fingers meet cold air before she backs into them again, driving the digits inside a pool of heat and wetness. His cock is throbbing, throbbing, pre-cum already tainting the front of his pants and he knows, as he watches his fingers go in and out of her, that he won't last much longer with her moaning his name in wanton, dangerously approaching her climax.

He takes a step back, and his fingers enter his mouth now as he sucks on them while Hermione watches over her shoulder with fire in her eyes. He takes off his tie and uses it to bind her wrists behind her back. The thin straps of the dress slide low over her shoulders, down her arms.

"Sit on the desk, Hermione."

She turns around and the black dress falls back into place once more. Slowly, deliberately, she perches on the edge of the desk and begins to grind her pelvis against the smooth surface of the wood.

"Spread your legs, kitten,"

The fabric rides up her thighs, bunches up to her waist, and she parts her legs for him.

Draco almost comes in his pants at the sight of her pink glistening folds. She leans backward on her bound hands, pushing her breasts forward.

"Wider," he hisses and she parts her legs further, staring at him with hunger while his own eyes are fixated on her offered cunt. He licks his bottom lip and she bites hers. Even the inside of her thighs is coated in her arousal.

"My, you've already made a mess of yourself, haven't you, my pet,"

Draco steps between her tights, palms on either side, flat on the wooden surface. She leans forward but his left hand shoots up and fits her hair, yanking her backward, making her back arch further.

"No," he growls and even though she stills, his fingers stay entangled in her hair for good measure. With his other hand, he trails the edge of the dress, above the swell of her breasts. It's just a fingertip, a feathery touch, but her flesh responds to it, her whole body hums in response and her legs press against his.

He tugs on her hair again and leans forward, his finger still tracing, trailing, back and forth above the fabric. "You never answered my question, love," he murmurs in her ear, "what do you want me to do to you?"

His finger dips in the cleavage, delving between her breasts, tracing the black material and then moving to draw the contour of her left breast under the fabric, before outlining the other. Her nipples are aching for attention, but he doesn't touch them just yet. He has asked a question and wants his answer, no matter what his cock is screaming at him for being so bloody in control.

Her eyes are closed and longing is etched all over her features. Draco pulls on her hair once more, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Tell me, Hermione."

**OOO**

The haze in her brain is too thick to allow any kind of sentence to take form. He is being insanely unreasonable. No one drowning in this amount of lust could possibly remember even their own name. It's remarkable enough that she can still understand a word he is saying. Oh, but those words—she can't not understand them – they are the reason behind her current state of arousal and frustration—his velvet voice causing her wetness to grow, her stomach to tighten, her breathing to accelerate.

"Tell me," he says harshly, yanking her hair and she knows that he is getting there too – that his patience is wearing thin, that he will give in soon. But before she can manage anything other than a moan or a groan or a pathetic whimper, his fingers claw at the top on her dress, pulling the material and exposing her left breast. The sudden friction over her nipple forces a yelp out of her, and it morphs into a deep moan when his mouth closes around the areola. The surge of pleasure that shoots through her goes straight to her clit – and that part of her throbs in longing and pulses in envy. Her back arches of its own accord, and her other breast craves the same treatment.

But Draco pulls away after nibbling on the nipple and stares at her, quicksilver eyes, arrogant smirk in place. The tip of his finger rests, motionless, where his tongue has been a few seconds ago. "Tell me."

"Please, Draco,"

His finger starts circling the areola, again and again. His fingernail scratches the rigid flesh, ever so slightly. But that's not enough, not nearly enough.

"Begging, my pet? What are you begging for, hum?"

He bends his head over her chest and grazes her right breast over the material still cladding it, before moving to her exposed one and sucking on her erect flesh. She moans and her legs tighten, her lips curl and her bound hands ball into fists.

"Fuck," she hisses.

"Are you begging for this, I wonder?" He says over her skin, tracing it with his tongue and blowing hot air over the wet surface. The thermal shock is glorious and her breath catches in her throat. She doesn't reply, she can't—all she can do is nod.

"Or maybe—maybe you are begging for this," and his thumb is suddenly pressing on her clit, a maddening circular motion, and the touch is anything but patient—it's urgent and heated and demanding, and she pressed back, trying to get more, always more, and to her great surprise and delight, he complies by inserting two fingers in her slit.

And _Gods_, it's so fucking amazing, so fucking perfect and _fuck, fuck, fuck, Draco_ she cries out his name and arches her back and grinds against his fingers in wanton desperation. Her orgasm was within reach earlier, and she thinks she can still grasp it before he—

She roars in frustration. And Draco chuckles, licking his fingers clean from her cream.

"Tell me," he repeats again and this time she has an answer. In fact, she doesn't even need to use her brain anymore—the words just pour out of her in breathless torment and agony.

"Everything, I want everything, I want you to fuck me like only you can fuck me and I want you to do everything and use everything— your lips and your teeth and your tongue and your hands and that glorious tumescent cock of yours." She stops, panting, her gaze boring into his. "Do you hear me, Malfoy? I want you to fuck me in any and every way possible, but Gods just fucking do me already!"

Draco arches a single eyebrow.

"Glorious tumescent cock?" he repeats and beneath the amusement, there's a heat that echoes the one glowing in his quicksilver pupils.

"Draco!" She flat-out shouts. But it's in anger this time, and her magic flares to life, coursing through her veins and suddenly, her hands are free of the tie and she grabs his open collar, crushing his lips with hers, bruising his mouth, biting his lips, prying them open with her eager tongue. And it's all teeth and tongue, battling for control, mouths open and hot and just devouring each other.

She slides further down the desk, and his engorged cock is there, tenting his black slacks. Right. _There._

**OOO**

Draco swallows her moans and growls when his cock twitches, hardens against the scorching heat of her cunt. It wants to be inside her – it longs to be inside of her, just like that, the game ends. He grinds against her as she undulates against his erection.

"Fuck," the both of them hiss as hands roam over feverish skin, setting fire to it inch by inch—and it's urgent and frenzied and not enough, not quite enough. His chest is now bare, the white dress shirt forgotten on the carpet and her ravenous fingers are fumbling with his belt buckle as his own are bunching up the dress, tightening around the material, lifting, lifting, up and undressing. Her little dress lands on his shirt, black pooling and spilling over white and she is naked, deliciously, statuesque in her openness and her surrender to him.

"So beautiful," he moans while trailing his tongue down her collarbone, over the swell of breasts. "You are so fucking beautiful, Hermione."

His hand pushes her backwards, and she resists at first, clinging at his belt, relentless. But Draco isn't having it – he pushes harder, growling and bites her nipple, making her jerk back and she is now laying on the wooden desk, his tongue and teeth grazing her stomach that tenses under his attentions and her fingers are in his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp.

And finally, finally, he is there, there, between her parted legs and Draco seizes her ankles and forces her legs to bend at the knees, the balls of her feet posed at the edge of the desk. He buries his nose in the small triangle of dark brown curls and hums at the smell of her.

"Heaven and hell," he repeats and she is pressing his head down further.

"Draco…"

He looks up at her and her swollen lips are parted, her breasts rising and falling to the breathless panting of her chest.

"Yes, kitten?"

"Please, Draco,"

"What are you begging me for, Hermione?" he asks so casually he impresses himself even.

**OOO**

"Please," she says again, her eyes lowering to where his mouth hovers still, a mere inch away from pleasure and delectation.

But Draco just smirks and straightens up. Bewilderment shadows the desire on her lovely face for a second, before quickly shifting back as she watches him undo his trousers, kicking them off his ankles and to the side. The black boxers are a startling contrast with the paleness of his alabaster skin. And oh, it is flawless, his skin, the way he is built, the way he carries himself, the broadness of his shoulders, the corded veins of his forearms, his strong thighs—and Gods, she is starving and thirsty and about ready to implode.

But he just stares at her, unmoving.

"Please what, my pet?"

Bastard, she thinks again, he really wants her to say the word, doesn't he. Smug sexy bastard.

His hands are flat on her thighs, keeping them apart, his thumbs digging into her flesh as he sinks lower, and his mouth hovers maddeningly over her centre. His breath is hot on her wet slit, and if he would just flick his tongue out, he would graze her pulsing clit.

Hermione squirms under the excruciating anticipation, and she is lost; the words he wants to hear from her falling from her lips.

"Lick me," she growls and his eyes close a second, his finger digs harder into her flesh. "Lick my clit," she adds, and this time she can see his eyes roll at the back of his skull, and a primal, feral, guttural sound escapes his throat.

"Good girl," he says before delving between the apex of her thighs, his tongue tracing the length of her slit languidly and she is clawing at his hair, fisting it, grinding his face against her cunt.

"Oh sweet mother of—fuck fuck fuck go deeper, press harder, **fuck**,"

Hermione can feel his smirk against her sensitive skin and he complies, sucking her clit in his mouth, worrying between his teeth. She cries out, arches over the desk, her legs pressing on either side of his face. She is so close, so close to coming all over his mouth, to spilling everything over his desk and her thighs, and she doesn't care about any of it, she just wants to reach it, **it**—that superb explosion of ecstasy.

"Oh Gods yes yes yes, like that—oh fuck Draco, use your fingers, your fingers Draco,"

But this time, he doesn't fulfil her desire. Instead, he gets to his feet, and leans over her, her nipples grazing his bare chest in a delicious friction, before capturing her lips in a ferocious kiss of lips and teeth— and scarring perfection.

He bites her bottom lip, bites along her jawline, bites the shell of her left ear and then, "Do you want to come for me, Hermione?"

She whimpers, helpless, her body humming with her near-orgasm. He licks down the side of her neck and up again, "Tell me what you want, my pet"

"I already told you," she breathes in frustration, squirming underneath him to get her nipples to rub against his chest, pushing up her hips to grind against his boxer clad erection.

"Tell me again, gorgeous," he says over her mouth, his tongue licking over her lips. "Say the words, kitten,"

"I want," she pants and licks her lips, "I want you to fuck my cunt," grazing his tongue. "Now," she mutters, her feet leave the edge of the desk to grip his waist, trying to get his boxers to slide down his thighs. "Now, Draco, please."

**OOO**

Draco growls and his mouth closes over hers in a bruising kiss. His hands grab her wicked legs and he wrenches them apart, away from his waist and back on the desk again. Her bereft body arches up against him, craving his touch again. And he doesn't prolong the wait, he cannot – he has reached his limit.

Without warning, he thrusts into her, hard. They both gasp. Her fingernails dig into his back, and claw at his back. He bites her neck, her shoulder, but doesn't move just yet. He likes to feel her stretch around him – loves to feel her core suck him in, adores the way her body tries to keep him there forever.

He stifles her cry of protest with a long, deep, passionate kiss and groans into her open mouth. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper. He lets her, staring at her face – her eyes are screwed shut, her features a perfect mask of agony and frustration. He smirks against her heated skin, just above her racing pulse. She tightens around him and his cock twitches, aches and Draco is ready to move.

The pace is slow – he slides all the way out of her before impaling her again, and she jerks at the motions, her hands leaving drag marks on his back. She gasps and moans and cries for him to do it again. He does. His cock plunges inside her, and the feel of her almost makes him come, at this point.

He stills again and she groans in frustration. Her eyes snap open and there is fire in her pupils – burning lust and angry frustration, and she kisses him before he can claim her mouth first.

"Move," she mutters against his lips.

He smirks and deepens the kiss, grinding against her soaked core. She yelps and does the same, and he responds by biting her bottom lip.

"You like that, don't you?"

She pushes against him once more, digging her heels into his lower back, and Draco groans loudly.

"Move," she says again, her voice thick with lust.

His hands grip her waist, and he thrusts inside her with a barely-controlled violence. She screams and he does it again, and again—and again.

**OOO**

Hermione is seeing stars and constellations and the entire solar system as he pounds in and out of her with abandon. His hands are on her breasts and his mouth is on her lips and her neck and her collarbone. She claws at his back and tugs at his hair and her teeth sink into his shoulder. Sweat is dripping down her back and her skin suddenly feels too tight and she cries his name, over and over.

He stops abruptly and she lets out a sob. He doesn't give her time to protest – or hex him into next week – because he grabs her left leg and she knows, she knows what he is about to do, and yes, yes, yes – she wants it.

He angles his hips, and his next thrust hits the perfect spot. For a second, she forgets how to breathe, and perhaps he senses it, because he captures her mouth, panting and hungry and she moves against him as he picks up the pace.

She can feel it coming – that wonderful, beautiful release, and her whole body is tingling as she pulls him closer, deeper.

He slams into her again, and she is close, oh so close, so close she can taste it in the back of her throat. Her toes curl and her hands fist and she screams and screams and screams.

"Draco, Draco, Draco—"

And he is right there with her, clinging to her as they both fall.

**OOO**

Draco lets out a heavy sigh as his body covers hers on his desk. He tastes the sweat at the base of her throat and her hand in his hair brushes off the strands stuck on his forehead. Their breathing is laboured, and he is still buried inside her. The heat is gone now, and they both bask in the lingering afterglow of it all. He closes his eyes, listening to the slowing beat of her heart.

She chuckles and he raises an eyebrow at her.

"What?"

She smiles and lifts her head off the desk to plant a butterfly-like kiss on his parted lips.

"That was…" she trails off, her eyes sparkle with something that makes his chest swell with warmth.

"Yes?" he asks patiently, amused.

"I'd say perfect, but that would be a cliché."

He rests his weight on his forearms and stares at her for a moment.

She frowns at his sudden silence but doesn't say anything. He puts his hand on her cheek, and his thumb traces the shape of her lips. He kisses her, taking his time, loving the way she responds instantly.

"Perfection is overrated anyway," he mutters against her mouth. "I personally prefer the word magical."

She hums in approval, and he can feel the vibration through her chest.

"So do I," she says, pulling back ever so slightly. "At least we both know that magic is real."

He licks her bottom lip and she nibbles on his. "It's in you," she adds, distractedly.

"It's us," he corrects, before deepening the kiss, making her moan.

He growls at the sound.

Yes, it's them.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. This is my first PWP, I hope you enjoyed it. If there are enough reviews, I might consider a sequel ;)**


	2. His Green Silk Scarf

**A/N: I'd like to dedicate this to Guest, whose review made my day and to JNRPR whose review made me laugh and smile for a whole day (no joke). This sequel is for you both, I hope you like it.**

**.**

**.His Green Silk Scarf.**

**.**

She loves the feel of the cool, smooth material on her face, covering her eyes, robbing her of her eyesight, trailing down the slope of her bare back, and tying her hands and feet in powerful, restricting knots.

Her knees feel raw despite the plush rug underneath her. She arches her back, thrusting her breasts forward, and tries to get into a more comfortable position, but it's pointless. This position isn't meant to be comfortable. Its purpose is to make her entire body tense and tingle with torturous, delicious anticipation. After all, anticipation is half the fun.

The door of the room opens silently and the sudden rush of air that sweeps inside grazes her heated naked skin. She parts her legs slightly, savoring the chill, barely-there caress on her wet folds.

She can sense his presence behind her. He stands there – close enough for her to smell the cologne she gave him for Christmas. She inhales deeply, filling her lungs with the heady scent of him. He pats her head, the back of his hand slowly drifting to her left cheek, and under her chin as he moves in front of her. He lifts it with a tip of a finger, and his thumb touches her lower lip. She struggles not to part her lips and lick it.

"Well, my pet. You know the rules," his voice is deep, laced with lust. "You can't come unless I say so."

She nods her head obediently.

"Good girl," he says.

She hears the zipper of his trousers, and her heart hammers in her chest. A surge of pure, searing heat rushes through her, straight to her swollen clit. Hermione fights the need to rub her thighs together to get some sort of friction to her aching core.

Not being allowed to see him increases her arousal in ways she has never considered, before becoming his lover. In his arms, she has learnt that her body holds delightful dark secrets that he alone can unveil in the most decadent ways.

He knows her needs, and meets each and every one of them with a skill that ought to be against the law.

"Open your mouth, kitten," he orders in a low growl.

Her lips part instantly and she leans her head forward eagerly.

She hears him chuckle at her barely-suppressed enthusiasm.

_The bastard._

"Stick your tongue out," comes the second command.

She does. Her nipples tighten painfully, deliciously, and her clit pulses in response.

Hermione moans, involuntarily.

**OOO**

Draco watches her in silence. His pupils are blowout with the lust that courses through his veins, engorging his cock. She is breathtaking, kneeling on the carpet of his bedroom – exquisite in her nakedness, hands behind her back, her breast offered to him in earnest. But what he loves more is that scarf he gave her for moments like this one. The emerald green material around her eyes is a sight he can sometimes summon in his dreams. She is submission itself. Magnificent.

_Mine._

Her moan is a sweet melody to his ears, and he smirks.

Draco steps forward, pushing a hand in his boxers and pulls out his hard cock. Playfully, he rubs the tip against her wet tongue. She moans again and he takes a step back.

Hermione squirms, pulling against her restraints and Draco grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.

"Pace yourself, Granger," he growls. "We've just started."

She stills and he lets her go. Her lips form a wonderful pout and Draco can't stop himself. He kneels in front of her and crushes his mouth against hers. Their tongues meet and dance together in a feverish tango, and Draco can taste the saltiness of his pre-cum. He groans before wrenching himself from her, leaving them both panting heavily.

"Draco…"

"Yes?"

She rubs her thighs together and he can hear the wetness there. It's his favorite sound, second only to her moaning.

But she is breaking the rules and he gets to his feet swiftly, tugging his cock back into his pants. His fingers pinch one of her hardened nipples, and she gasps.

"What did I tell you, Granger?"

She swallows hard and wets her lips, still panting.

She doesn't answer.

Draco smirks again and kneels again, at her side this time. His hand wraps around the silk at her back and he pulls on it, making her head snap back, pushing her breasts forward. His other hand pinches her nipple again, and Hermione yelps.

"Answer me," he commands, and his voice doesn't leave any room for protest.

"I won't do it again," she whimpers, and he pinches her other nipple in the same manner.

"Do what again, Granger?"

"I won't – ah, hm, I won't try to come," she huffs.

Draco lets go of the scarf and his mouth replaces his fingers around her breast. He sucks on it lovingly, his tongue swirling around the peddled flesh soothingly.

"Good girl," he says, breathing the words against her sensitive skin, and her whole body shudders.

He stands up again, facing her.

"Now for your reward," he says before offering his cock to her sinful mouth again. She opens up as soon as he presses the head to her lips. And Draco stares, mesmerized, as she takes him in. He groans and his eyes roll to the back of his head as his hands grip her head, his fingers entangling in her wild hair.

"That's it, kitten, slow and steady," he purrs, loving every second of the feel of her wet, velvety tongue around his tumescent cock. "Oh Merlin, Granger, you feel so fucking heavenly."

**OOO**

Hermione feels slickness running down the inside of her thigh as her mouth sucks him hungrily. He doesn't push, lets her set the pace, and she is grateful for it. Without her hands to help her, she needs to be sure not to choke on his rather large cock.

She tastes him, relishing his fullness and the saltiness of the drops of pre-cum he is leaving on her tongue. She groans and the vibration seems to make him lose control. His grip on her head tightens, and he drives into her mouth with a sudden burst. She gags, and he pulls back slightly.

"I want to see your eyes, as I fuck your wicked mouth," he says. And she feels his fingers leave her hair and lower the green silk. The soft material slides over her nose and her lips, and finally rests around her neck.

The room is bathed in the dim orange light of the fireplace on the other side of the room, casting shadows over the walls. Her eyes lift to his and she moans when she sees the burning desire in his quicksilver pupils. His mouth is open, his breathing labored, and his normally pale cheeks are tinted with a delicious redness. He is perfect in his domination and his self-restraint, and incredibly, her arousal reaches a new level as her mouth takes him deeper.

Hoping he won't notice, she rubs her legs together, searching for the release he is intent on denying her, for now.

But he sees it. Of course he does. And he is pulling away from her and Hermione's face twists in anguish as her mouth closes around him in a futile effort to keep him between her lips.

"Now, now, what did I say, Granger?" he says with an arched eyebrow. He zips his trousers back, and she whimpers at the loss. "You naughty girl, you can't seem to listen to me tonight, do you want me to punish you this badly?"

He pulls on the scarf at the back and the fabric tightens around her neck, cutting off her breathing for a second, before he lets her go.

"If it's punishment you seek, punishment you shall get, my pet."

**OOO**

His cock is ready to burst. It's a good thing she misbehaves when she does. Watching her suck him off with those perfect plum lips was beginning to prove too difficult to resist.

Draco gets behind her and unties her feet, then her wrists.

"Get on your hands and knees, Granger."

She complies, arching her spine like a feline. A gorgeous sensual feline, with smooth, flawless skin.

The long silk scarf tangles on the floor, grazing the back of her thighs and her round bum. He can't resist the temptation and touches the soft globes, following their perfect shape to her soaking entrance. He trails a finger over her slit and she tries to grind on his hand, to get more friction, but Draco pulls on the scarf and she stops with a helpless cry.

"Draco," she chokes out.

He doesn't let go, and tugs on the material again. Before spanking her. Hard.

Hermione yelps and lurches forward with the force of the impact. Draco doesn't give her time to recover, and slaps her three more times. He kneels at her side, and kisses her ear.

"Count for me, kitten," he mutters, before swatting her ass again.

"One," she grounds out.

The silk around her neck tightens and loosens. He slaps her reddening flesh again.

"Ah- two,"

Abruptly, Draco shoves a finger in her cunt and she bucks forward, the scarf strangling the loud moan she lets out.

He pulls out of her slit and spanks her again.

"Three, aah-ah, four, aaahhrgh five,"

Draco stops. The silence fills with their ragged breathing. With the back of his hand, he caresses the pink skin of her bum, and he feels her wince before relaxing into his touch.

He cups her cunt and his palm is immediately coated in her arousal. She is so wet, the scent of it reaches him and Draco stands up, wrapping the length of the scarf around his fist. Their eyes lock and he sees understanding flash in her gaze before he can issue his next command.

"Follow me, kitten,"

He tugs lightly on the silk and she walks behind him on all fours.

Draco leads her to the bed and she climbs on the mattress obediently.

"Lie back," he instructs, climbing beside her. She settles against the pillows and he pulls on the scarf, freeing the material from underneath her.

"Hands above your head, crossed at the wrist."

**OOO**

She does as she is told. A few seconds later, Hermione can feel the soft fabric wrap her joined hands. She glances up, being careful not to choke herself with the restraint around her neck, and sees him tie an intricate knot between her wrists. She faintly thinks that it looks like a bow, one you'd see on a pretty little present under the Christmas tree. She doesn't have time to dwell on the randomness of the thought because Draco is sliding down her body, his fingers tracing a path from the crook of her neck, between her breasts, to her stomach and around her belly button before halting quite unexpectedly at the soft curls of her cunt.

"Spread those legs for me, kitten," he says kissing her hip bone.

When she does, the cool air hit her wet folds and she shudders deliciously. Her clit throbs in anticipation as her gaze follows his movements. He places himself between her parted legs and grabs her ankles, pushing her feet flat on the bedspread. He falls back on his knees and just stares at her.

"You will be the death of me, woman," he growls, his eyes fixed on her glistening cunt. He licks his lips and her insides clench. She wants him so badly. But he just watches her, his hands keeping her legs apart with a firm grip.

"You know, I spent the day thinking about licking this pink, soaking pussy," he tells her in a tone deceptively mundane. Except that she knows better, she can see it all over his taut expression, - the way his jaw is set, his dilated pupils, his slightly labored breathing, and if that isn't telling enough, the tent in his trousers is quite revealing.

"So, what are you waiting for, then?" she baits him with a sexy smirk, widening her legs further.

He answers her with a wicked smile of his own, and bends his head to kiss the inside of her right thigh. His tongue flickers over her skin as he moves toward the apex of her thighs and her breath hitches before turning into a moan. Draco stops and hover over the cunt. He breathes against the wet, slippery slit and her whole body shakes, her toes curling on the bed.

"Ahh, there, yesss," she groans, her nails scratching the silk fabric that binds them.

"Not yet, kitten," he replies, and his lips are on her other leg now, kissing a trail to her trembling knees.

"Draco," she cries in frustration. She wants to grab his head and just shove him between her legs but she can't. She can't because the scarf would most certainly strangle her to death if she tries to lift her hands in front of her. As always, he has thought of everything.

Her mouth opens to beg him to just give her what she craves more than anything at this moment. But when she sees the glint of amusement in his silver eyes, she shuts it and frowns.

He _wants_ her to beg.

She levels a defiant look in his direction, issuing him a sort of challenge. His smirk widens into a predatory grin against her burning skin.

_Challenge accepted._

**OOO**

Oh, she is going to regret it, he thinks.

"Now, love, just lie there comfortably," he whispers, kissing a wet path to her cunt, stopping at her entrance. "And take it."

He licks the length of her sex and watches her eyes roll at the back of her head as her legs wobble slightly. His hands are quick to steady them, and Draco buries his nose in her pubic hair, inhaling deeply – it's his favorite scent in the whole word.

"Remember, Granger, you are not allowed to come, until I give you permission,"

She squirms in response, lifting her pelvis to meet his open mouth. He grazes her soaking cunt with his teeth and she lets out a cry of pure pleasure.

"Draco!" she gasps, and he loves the desperation in her voice so much so that he does it again. Her back arches clean off of the bed and he has to put a hand on her stomach to keep her still.

"Ready to beg, my pet?" he asks her, and his hands reach for her breasts, circling the erect nipples with the pad of his thumbs. He watches her eyes drift open, and her pupils are two black pools where lusts and desire swirls in perfect harmony. He feels as though he could drown in those eyes. In her.

And he wants to – his cock is begging and pleading with his head at this point, but there is more to come. He will make her beg, even if it kills him. Or her. Or probably both of them.

"You are the cruelest man I know," she mutters between ragged breaths.

Draco snorts and smirks at her. A shadow falls over his expression, and though it is fleeting, he knows she caught it. Because this is just one of those things that makes them so perfect for each other – she gets him, even when he says nothing, even when he tries to hide everything. And so does he.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replies. And she smiles sinfully, wonderfully and he falls in love with her all over again when she licks her lips, staring at him with complete unadulterated adoration and says, "You should."

Draco climbs on top of her and captures her lips in a passionate kiss. It's different from the one he gave her earlier – it speaks of other things than sexual tension and playful teasing. It comes from a place where his heart beats for her and where hers answers in response. Their lips move against one another languidly, almost lazily.

She sucks his tongue into her mouth and he groans, his hips grinding against her naked body. The need to come inside her overpowers him and Draco has to pull away from her. He hears her guttural protest and soothes her by kissing her collarbone, the slope of her breasts, before giving his full attention to her perfect tits. He sucks and nibbles on the pebbled flesh and she digs her heels in the bed.

Draco doesn't wait for her to beg, that moment is gone now, and shoves his face between her parted thighs. His tongue laps up her wetness, circles her swollen clit as she thrashes and gasps and screams. But he doesn't let her come. He slips a finger inside her, and she jumps and pushes and then-

"Please, please, please, please," she cries as her body shudders from head to toe.

He lifts his head and looks at her with a satisfied little smile.

"See, it's always better when you comply, kitten," he says.

He doesn't wait for her answer. Instead, he inserts another finger into her slit and sucks her clit into his mouth fervently.

**OOO**

Her brain is a blank space with nothing but fireworks. Her back lifts off the bed and she can feel her skin tightens as her insides tremble with the power of her release. Hermione tries to breathe as she rides the first waves of her orgasm, but Draco seems to have other ideas. She feels a third finger enter her. His thumb replaces his tongue on her clit and she screams as another powerful surge of pleasure takes hold of her. Her vision goes black and she fears she will pass out, but his mouth is suddenly on her nipples and his fingers slow down and she can breathe again.

He kisses her eyelids, her temple, her cheek, her open mouth, and Hermione feels the tension of her orgasm ebb away. Her body relaxed into the bed and a satisfied moan escapes her lips, falling into his mouth. She tastes herself on his tongue, and a shot of renewed desire comes over her.

"I want to touch you," she mutters, still panting.

Draco kisses her once more before untying her wrists. She wastes no time, and her arms fold around him and she is kissing him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, trying to tear it off of him in frenzied urgency. She wants his skin on her skin, she wants him naked and exposed, just as she is.

Sensing her need, Draco's hands come up to help and the black shirt is quickly off and thrown over the bed. His trousers and boxers are quick to follow, leaving them both bare and glistening with sweat.

Hermione's tongue traces a trail over his smooth chest, and when her fingernails graze his nipples, he growls and grabs her hip with a bruising force. She does it again and he gasps helplessly and she slips her tongue in his mouth. She takes his moment of utter submission to switch their positions, straddling him.

Draco arches a brow at her and Hermione simply smirks in return before bending her head to his torso again. She licks and kisses and bites his offered flesh, and he lets her, to her complete delight. His hands fist the bedspread and his eyes close. His face is a tantalizing – a mask of agony and pleasure and slipping self-control.

She can feel his cock against her core, throbbing. He is close, she can tell. But she wants him inside her, needs him to explode deep inside her cunt – craves to hold him there, filling her completely, perfectly.

Kissing him with fever, she grabs his erect cock and positions it at her folds, parting them slightly. They both groan and he meets her eyes.

"Take me," he tells her, his voice so deep and hoarse she hardly recognizes it.

She's never heard more erotic, thrilling words.

Slowly, purposefully, she raises her hips and let him watch her slide down, impaling herself on his cock. Her eyes close and she bites her lower lip at the sensation of him finally inside her. She feels her walls clench and trap him there.

"Hermione," he whispers.

She feels him sit up, and his hands are on her face, and she opens her eyes because there is something not quite right with his voice.

She looks at him. His eyes are a grey storm that pulls her in.

"Do you trust me?"

The question gives her pause. Not because she needs to think about the answer – she doesn't, of course she trusts him – but she finds it odd that he feels the need to ask her this.

Hermione sees a flicker of doubt cross his features at her silence and she lifts her hands to his face, her palms grazing the light stubble on his cheeks.

"I do," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "Of course I do."

He seems to be searching for something in her eyes and she holds still, letting him see everything she feels for him.

Draco's hands finally move to her neck, touching the green silk scarf still wrapped around her throat. Then they slide to her chest, on her ribs and settle on her hips. He captures her lips in a breathtaking kiss, and starts to move underneath her.

She meets his slow thrusts, grinding her pelvis over his, her eyes never leaving his penetrating gaze.

Then his hands move and he takes hold of the silk at her sides. His fists wrap gently around the fabric and tugs on it.

The green material tightens around her neck slightly. And she understands what he meant. She nods and Draco's fists pull harder than ever before on the silk restrain, mimicking the pace of their thrusts.

"Come on, kitten, fuck me harder," he growls tugging the scarf tighter and she lifts her hips, slamming against him again and again, rhythming her thrust to the tightening and loosening of the silk around her neck.

"Fuck me, Hermione, take everything you want," he urges her pulling on the fabric, blocking her air again.

She gasps and increases the pace, her hands on his shoulders, on his back, digging her nails into his scorching skin.

Her lungs scream and her engorged, sensitive clit rubs against his pelvic bone with urgency. She grinds harder, and has to close her eyes as the first shudder of release surges through her.

"Draco, aaah, Draco, DRACO!"

Her head falls back, her hair sticks to the sweat on her back and his hands let go of the fabric. He grabs her hips, pushing his cock deeper inside her, forcing her to grind against him faster as her orgasm takes over.

"Look at me," he orders.

She does. She looks at him and sees her own pleasure reflected in his dark pupils.

"Come for me, kitten," he breaths, panting painfully.

And the command conjures up a new powerful and all-consuming orgasm that washes over her like a tidal wave.

He pulls her against his chest, thrusting inside her for a few more seconds before his own release takes over him. And she absolutely loves the way he clings to her with the force of it.

**OOO**

Draco leans back on the bed, dragging her with him. She rests her head in the crook of his neck, and her ragged breaths on his sweaty skin are a delicious sensation. She relaxes in his embrace, and he kisses the top of her head.

"Thank you," he whispers.

She kisses his jaw in response.

He wants to say more, but he knows that she can read the true meaning behind his simple words.

_Thank you for trusting me._

_Thank you for loving me._

_Thank you for being mine._

_Thank you, Hermione._

He trails his short fingernails on her back and she hums. Soon after that, he can feel her even breathing.

She is asleep.

Draco closes his eyes, a smile of pure contentment on his face as he too succumbs to slumber.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. And thank you for all the favs and follows. Thank you to all the silent readers as well and Dramione FTW!**


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